[This is also on my tumblr page [ post/33789745276/i-wrote-fan-fiction-while-i-was-away]
Sherlock hung up the phone, a smile creeping into his features as he set it on the table, "We got it," he stated, excitement leaking into the flat words, "The agency accepted our application, there's a mother who wants to meet us. We're going to be dads." John grinned widely and let himself burst into a strange fit of giggles, which ended with him flopping onto the couch next to Sherlock, who — awkwardly, but easily— enveloped the doctor in his arms.
"Are you serious?" John asked, the fact simply wasn't registering with him. They had been waiting anxiously for a few months, almost surprised that they actually got the call. They had heard countless horror stories of same-sex couples never getting their long-awaited child, and even Sherlock was becoming anxious that he would never know the joys of fatherhood. The detective ran a reassuring hand through John's hair, but instead of answering, he stayed silent.
He had never felt so absolutely elated about something, not since he stood underneath that arch and heard his dear Watson mutter 'I do'. John sighed and sunk into Sherlock, "Wow", he whispered, "We're going to be dads."
After a few cups of tea and a conversation composed mainly of disbelief, the men finally retired to their bed and were eventually lulled into a half-restless sleep.
Soon enough, warm daylight washed over London. Alarm clocks buzzed and kettles boiled as Sherlock gently awoke John from his slumber, "Wake up," he whispered, "They want us at the office in about an hour." The doctor groaned as he rolled over, almost falling off the bed, then his husband's words clicked and he shot up in the bed and shuffled into the kitchen. Sherlock's half-eaten breakfast rested on the table next to an extra, full plate of food complete with a cup of John's favorite tea.
"What's this?" John asked, gesturing at the table, "Are you expecting a morning client?"
Sherlock chuckled as he reclaimed his seat behind his food, "It's for you, don't be scared. I didn't burn anything down, I was just trying to be nice."
John nodded as he sat hesitantly down in the seat opposite. Although his wasn't unheard of, this was still a bit unusual. Both men quickly scarfed down their food before completing morning rituals and putting on coats. Eventually, they made it out the door without a hitch.
A cab was hailed, and a typically quiet ride took place before they were dropped off at the agency for their meeting. They stepped into the building's waiting room, but barely had a chance to sit down before they were called in by a petite, heavy-set Filipino woman who ushered the couple into the consultation room.
It was a typical office: dark wood desk complete with an early 2000's computer, a large leather chair (which the Filipino woman sat down in as she entered), and a white loveseat which sat directly opposite the desk and held a strikingly familiar woman.
John sat, sort of shocked, in the doorway as Sherlock chuckled lightly and sat down next to now-glowing, perfectly plump brunette. He looked her up and down carefully, "Still unmarried, I see" he knew it was a simple deduction, but she was still hard to read, "But you were engaged?" the statement came out as a question, and he smiled as she nodded, "For about six months, to a woman… A man wouldn't give someone a gift like that," he gestured to the bracelet she was wearing, it was carefully adorned with hand-made trinkets from the now-dissolved relationship. She nodded again, playing with the jewelry. Sherlock paused, he decided to stop talking at her, as he noted her uncomfortable disposition, and he thought John would find it inappropriate to start into the ugly stuff. He waved the doctor over carefully, "She's not remotely interested in me anymore," he reassured, "See her pupils? Not a fraction dilated."
John nervously took the empty seat next to his husband and snatched Sherlock's hand in his own, making the point that the detective belonged to him.
The woman behind the desk smiled, "You have a history, I see. That makes introductions much simpler. I'm Alice Bernard, and — as you're fully aware— this is Irene Adler. She's having a little boy in about a month, but unfortunately she will be unable to care for him herself."
Irene stayed strangely quiet, until she finally spoke up, "As you probably know, Mr. Holmes, the child's father is dead. You two had a little history which ended on the roof of St. Bart's."
John looked a little confused as he looked at Sherlock, "But that was four years ago? Moriarty's been dead for a while…" Sherlock squeezed John's hand lightly before he whispered a quiet explanation. "Why?" John asked again, "I don't see why he would need to fake his own death?" Sherlock whispered a few more words and John sunk back into his seat, "I see."
"No you don't," Sherlock said, "If anything, you're even more confused."
"Don't start," John warned, and Sherlock obeyed with a loud sigh. John turned to Irene, "If we take him, nobody's going to come after us, or try to kill him or anything?"
"No," she replied, "I'm giving him up for my own protection. Sebastian Moran— one of Moriarty's snipers— is very upset, but I'm absolutely positive he won't go after the adoptive parents."
Both of the men nodded before being handed a folder. They chuckled lightly at the fake back story, but otherwise read silently. "Everything looks good," John said. Instructions were given, and hands shook as the meeting ended; the boys would be up-to-date on any new developments, and they were reminded that the due date was in about a month.
It was a slow, grueling month for the boys in Baker Street. Sherlock hadn't seen a case in weeks as John turned his old room (and Sherlock's make-shift lab) into a proper nursery— with no help from the silent, brooding detective. Excitement finally fell upon the expectant dads in the form of a phone call, the baby was coming. They rushed to the hospital, but paced anxiously for a few hours in the waiting room until they were allowed into hesitantly enter the room to find a sort of endearing, motherly (but sweaty) Irene smiling sadly down at the newborn child.
"Come in," she said in a tired almost-broken voice, and the men obeyed. John sat awkwardly at the edge of the bed and Sherlock walked around to stand by Irene's side. He slid a thin finger into the child's fist and play with it gently, "Hey, little man," he greeted softly before smiling at John and waving him over.
John complied with a sigh, nervous that she would take back her decision and opt to raise the child herself, but he still greeted the baby hopefully with half-words and a wide smile, "Can I hold him?" John asked, he had become more comfortable with Irene, considering they had spent a lot of time together over the past month. She nodded and handed the kid over to John, who took him carefully into his arms and looked to Sherlock with a sheepish grin and a nervous giggle as he awkwardly bounced the child in his arms. "I know," Sherlock said, copying his husband's smile as he played again with the baby's hands.
A nurse came in, accompanied by Alice— who had her hands full of paperwork. "If you two gentlemen would follow me, please," said the nurse as she took the child away from John and returned it to the new mother. She ushered the men out into the hallway and explained that Irene would receive a 24-hour bonding period with the child and make her final decision when her time was up.
A long, restless night took place for both the Irene and the pair of detectives. As John tossed and turned and Sherlock had far too many cups of late-night tea, Irene sat up in her hospital bed and watched her nameless child sleep as few silent tears of longing rolled down her cheeks.
Eventually, her tears dried as the sun peeked out and washed the city in light once again, bringing about a strange sort of peace which calmed both the new mother and the expectant fathers. Sherlock and John had both fallen asleep in each other's arms around six in the morning, but were awakened by a woman's moan not three hours later. Sherlock rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked his phone; they were needed at the hospital again, Irene didn't want the whole 24 hours and she needed them to collect the kid immediately before she made a wrong decision.
"John," Sherlock said, morning still rested in his tired voice, "Wake up, we need to go back to St. Barts" he shook his doctor awake and they both rushed to get ready. They skipped their breakfast and hopped into pants before tugging coats on over their pajama shirts.
They were back in Irene's hospital room within half an hour and she was signing several different papers. John sighed out of relief at the sight of the documents being handed back to Alice as they stepped over the threshold into the room. Alice stood up and walked over to the couple, arms overflowing with papers, "She made the decision. The child is all yours, he is still unnamed, but I think we'll need one soon." She smiled, then went over the papers that they would need to sign. They both followed the orders and she left the room.
John led Sherlock to the bed, which still held Irene and they stood by the side of her. "Thank you," Sherlock said, sad smile playing over his features as John hugged her— a little uncomfortably. She nodded as the hug ended "Anytime," she joked, water filling her eyes and her voice breaking slightly. She pawed at her face, getting rid of any tears that were threatening to escape. A nurse entered again, telling Irene to pack up her things, she was free to go. Irene climbed out of the bed as she picked up her stuff, "Take good care of him," she paused with a broken chuckle as the couple enveloped her in their arms, "I'm sure you'll do fine" she smiled as they released her and she walked out the door with the nurse.
Another nurse came in immediately as the door was closing and John and Sherlock sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and drew the crib towards them and smiled widely down at their son. Fortunately, he reminded them a lot more of Irene than Jim as he slept silently before them. The door shut behind the nurse and he he cleared his throat before he stepped forward to explain how fatherhood would work, as far as eating and sleeping would go, along with what's normal behaviour for a child and when they should seek out medical help.
They both nodded at the instructions which only took a few minutes to explain as neither of the men had any questions. "Alright," said the nurse, "Does the little guy have a name yet?"
Sherlock and John exchanged a curious look, which ended with a smile, "Hamish," They said, "Hamish Doyle Holmes" They had been fiddling with names for weeks and that was the one that clicked whenever they saw their son for the first time.
The nurse smiled, writing a few things down, before turning to exit the room. "Take your son and follow me, please" he instructed, and the new fathers followed him to the front desk, where they were handed a few more papers to sign, and then they were free to go. John secured Hamish in the carrier that he brought then followed Sherlock through the automatic doors before they returned to Baker Street.
They made their way back to the flat with their sleeping son and placed him gingerly in the cradle which rested beside the bed that they sat on. John rested his head on the detective's chest and Sherlock wrapped his arm around the doctor and brought him a little closer with a sigh as they watched Hamish fidget slightly with a strange coo then calm back into his sleep.
Peace fell over 221B like a blanket, all was right with their world as the greatest adventure Holmes and Watson would ever have was just beginning.